Wish the world was left behind, in the garden of my mind,
Sorrow flows unconfined, life and woe grow intertwined
For in Her wake, my fate’s defined; a crippling state that grates my mind,
As She embraces me… Suspending me in time.
Witness times changing fast, where no spring would ever last,
As She molds me in a cast, in this garden of my past.
My grief thickens evermore, resting roots to my core
Sensing sorrow heretofore…She embraces me.
In Her warmth blazes trees, clenching on broken branches
Setting flame to memories and all forsaken chances.
On this barren land of stone and sand, She revels as She dances-
Whisking on a summer breeze that brushes on the rotting leafs
of my seemingly virtual virtues and belligerent beliefs.
In this garden of my mind, She’s the apple and my Eve,
And I am Adam and the snake and it’s no wonder that i ache
In this prison that I make, i must be destined to forsake
This garbled garden that is fake…but <b>She</b> won’t let me.
In Her arms i am bound, yet no comfort could be found,
In this grizzly grazing ground that my vultures circle round,
All the doubts and inhibitions, feed on weakening ambitions,
O what fierce opposition that reason sense to submission.
In this autumn of demise, a winter sun may never rise,
Yet I search within the skies, for the words to fertilize - My garden with poetry.
On this paper is no surmise, no assumptions of grand reprise,
It would come as no surprise if this paper simply supplies - My record of solitary.
‘Cause in this garden of my mind i do not seek for flowers openly;
lest i find one and <b>She</b> finds me - foraging cautiously in the shade,
yearning hope that still pervades through this rage engaged brigade -
And on Her touch, my flowers wilt and roses fade,
Then I'll be left all alone,
in this place She now calls home,
with no spring to ever bloom,
in this garden of my Gloom.
So, I bind these words in-line, and I leave this piece unsigned,
In hope that someone else in kind, may find some sense or peace of mind,
in an everlasting shrine, imperceptibly confined,
in the garden of their mind.
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